“ ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘the’ ain’t much to it in the way of a story, but seein’ dinner must be most through,’ I says, ‘I’ll tell ye all the’ was of it. The elder had a small farm ’bout two miles out of the village,’ I says, ‘an’ he was great on raisin’ chickins an’ turkeys. He was a slow, putterin’ kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen. Wa’al,’ I says, ‘one year when the poultry was comin’ along, a family o’ skunks moved onto the premises an’ done so well that putty soon, as the elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin’ to be a ch’ice between the chickin bus’nis an’ the skunk bus’nis, an’ though he said he’d heard the’ was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn’t ben edicated to it, he said, and didn’t take to it any ways. So,’ I says, ‘he scratched ’round an’ got a lot o’ traps an’ set ’em, an’ the very next mornin’ he went out an’ found he’d ketched an ole he-one—president of the comp’ny. So he went to git his gun to shoot the critter, an’ found he hadn’t got no powder. The boys had used it all up on woodchucks, an’ the’ wa’n’t nothin’ fer it but to git some more down to the village, an’, as he had some more things to git, he hitched up ’long in the forenoon an’ drove down.’ At this,” said David, “one of the ladies, wife to the judge, name o’ Pomfort, spoke up an’ says, ‘Did he leave that poor creature to suffer all that time? Couldn’t it have been put out of it’s misery some other way?’
“ ‘Wa’al marm,’ I says, ‘I never happened to know but one feller that set out to kill one o’ them things with a club, an’ he put in most o’ his time fer a week or two up in the woods hatin’ himself,’ I says. ‘He didn’t mingle in gen’ral soci’ty, an’ in fact,’ I says, ‘he had the hull road to himself, as ye might say, fer a putty consid’able spell.’ ”
John threw back his head and laughed. “Did she say any more?” he asked.
“No,” said David with a chuckle. “All the men set up a great laugh, an’ she colored up in a kind of huff at fust, an’ then she begun to laugh too, an’ then one o’ the waiter fellers put somethin’ down in front of me an’ I went eatin’ agin. But putty soon Price, he says, ‘Come,’ he says, ‘Harum, ain’t you goin’ on? How about that powder?’
“ ‘Wa’al,’ I says, ‘mebbe we had ought to put that critter out of his misery. The elder went down an’ bought a pound o’ powder an’ had it done up in a brown paper bundle, an’ put it with his other stuff in the bottom of his dem’crat wagin; but it come on to rain some while he was ridin’ back, an’ the stuff got more or less wet, an’ so when he got home he spread it out in a dishpan an’ put it under the kitchen stove to dry, an’ thinkin’ that it wa’n’t dryin’ fast enough, I s’pose, made out to assist Nature, as the sayin’ is, by stirrin’ on’t up with the kitchin poker. Wa’al,’ I says, ‘I don’t jes’ know how it happened, an’ the elder cert’inly didn’t, fer after they’d got him untangled f’m under what was left of the woodshed an’ the kitchin stove, an’ tied him up in cotton battin’, an’ set his leg, an’ put out the house, an’ a few things like that, bom-by he come round a little, an’ the fust thing he says was, “Wa’al, wa’al, wa’al!” “What is it, pa?” says Mis’ Maybee, bendin’ down over him. “That peowder,” he says, in almost no voice, “that peowder! I was jest stirrin’ on’t a little, an’ it went o‑f‑f, it went o‑f‑f,” he says, “seemin’ly—in—a—minute!” an’ that,’ I says to Mis’ Price, ‘was what that egg done.’
“ ‘We’ll have to forgive you that egg,’ she says, laughin’ like ev’rything, ‘for Elder Maybee’s sake’; an’ in fact,” said David, “they all laughed except one feller. He was an Englishman—I fergit his name. When I got through he looked kind o’ puzzled an’ says” (Mr. Harum imitated his style as well as he could), “ ‘But ra’ally, Mr. Harum, you kneow that’s the way powdah always geoes off, don’t you kneow,’ an’ then,” said David, “they laughed harder ’n ever, an’ the Englishman got redder ’n a beet.”
“What did you say?” asked John.
“Nuthin’,” said David. “They was all laughin’ so’t I couldn’t git in a word, an’ then the waiter brought me another plateful of somethin’. Scat my ⸻!” he exclaimed, “I thought that dinner ’d go on till kingdom come. An’ wine! Wa’al! I begun to feel somethin’ like the old feller did that swallered a full tumbler of white whisky, thinkin’ it was water. The old feller was temp’rence, an’ the boys put up a job on him one hot day at gen’ral trainin’. Somebody ast him afterwuds how it made him feel, an’ he said he felt as if he was sittin’ straddle the meetin’ house, an’ ev’ry shingle was a Jew’s-harp. So I kep’ mum fer a while. But jes’ before we fin’ly got through, an’ I hadn’t said nothin’ fer a spell, Mis’ Price turned to me an’ says, ‘Did you have a pleasant drive this afternoon?’
“ ‘Yes’m,’ I says, ‘I seen the hull show, putty much. I guess poor folks must be ’t a premium ’round here. I reckon,’ I says, ‘that if they’d club together, the folks your husband p’inted out to me today could almost satisfy the requirements of the ’Merican Soci’ty fer For’n Missions.’ Mis’ Price laughed, an’ looked over at her husband. ‘Yes,’ says Price, ‘I told Mr. Harum about some of the people
